


Soft

by SapphyreLily



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Some Humor, this is so sappy what did i do, this is so self-indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-14
Updated: 2017-10-14
Packaged: 2019-01-17 07:18:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12360462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SapphyreLily/pseuds/SapphyreLily
Summary: Yamagata wouldn't stop ruffling Shirabu's hair.





	Soft

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this [artwork](https://twitter.com/terimilkJJ/status/919105065880711168)

He should have seen it coming. Actually, he _did_ see it coming, but he couldn’t move out of the way fast enough.

A shoulder collided with his, the pressure of the impact sending him sprawling. He heard someone call out, heard Tendou call as he rushed to set the ball, looked up in time to see Kawanishi spike it to the other side. Shirabu hurriedly got up and dusted himself off, rolling his aching shoulder and waving off the apology that was directed at him.

“Are you sure you’re okay? I know that was a hard hit, I’m really, really, sorry–”

“I’m fine, Yamagata-senpai. I can take harder hits than that.”

“Doesn’t make me any less sorry, you know.”

“I’m fine,” Shirabu insisted. “It’s really no issue.”

Yamagata looked unconvinced, but sighed and patted his injured shoulder lightly. “I know you want to play, but if I see you struggling, I’m making Coach bench you for a bit, got it? Can’t let our setter be permanently injured, though we know Eita won’t mind replacing you.”

Shirabu snorted. “We know that indeed. Thank you for the concern, but I’m really okay.”

“Mmhmm. I’m watching you. Don’t let me regret it.”

\-----

His shoulder was perfectly fine by the end of that mini-match, and his knees weren’t hurt because – surprise, surprise – he had remembered to wear kneepads before they started practice. That didn’t stop Yamagata from coming over and fussing over him, insisting he had seen him limping.

“You winced the first few times you had to raise your arms to set, come on, just sit down and take a break.”

“Senpai, please, I’m _fine_ –”

“Hayato’s right, you should take a break.” A set of firm hands grabbed his shoulders and forced him onto the bench, and Shirabu let out a little noise of surprise. “You _were_ a bit off during the latter part of that set.”

“I. Am. Fine.”

“Mmhmm, sure you are,” the ash blond said. “If you want me to replace you so badly, just say it.”

“With all due respect, I earned that spot and I don’t want to give it up–”

“Then sit your ass down and _rest_ ,” Semi said, aggrieved. “Hayato, sit on him and make sure he doesn’t go anywhere. I’ll talk to Coach.”

Shirabu glared at the two third-years, scowling at Yamagata. “Do not.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Yamagata picked up Shirabu’s water bottle and handed it to him. “If you stay here willingly, that is.”

“I’m fine,” Shirabu grumbled, taking the water bottle. His shoulder had stopped hurting a few minutes into the game. He wasn’t that fragile, he recovered fast.

There was a weight on his head, the odd feeling of someone ruffling his hair. He made a sound of protest, shaking the person off, but they wouldn’t take their hand away.

“If you stay here for the next game, I’ll be satisfied that you really are _fine_ ,” Yamagata told him. Shirabu peeked up through the flattened strands of his hair, frowning.

“I don’t need to stay here that long.”

“Humour me.”

“Coach doesn’t think Shirabu needs to sit out, but he wanted to change up the teams anyway, so he’s still out,” Semi called. The two of them looked over at him, and he almost laughed at their reversed expressions.

“Ugh.”

“Sitting out won’t hurt you. You can make strategies.”

“It’s not fair that you’re right.”

“Just stay here and rest, geez.”

A last ruffle to his hair, and Yamagata left, headed back to the court for the next game. Shirabu shook his head, fluffing out the flattened strands, and settled in gloomily to watch the next match.

\-----

If only he knew that was only the beginning.

Every time after that, Shirabu wouldn’t be left in peace. _Peace_ meaning that at some point or the other, _someone_ would always be ruffling his hair, and he didn’t know _why._

In the hallway, on the way to class. Before, after, during practice. Sometimes it was part of congratulatory wishes, but other times, there seemed to be no rhyme or reason to it. To say he was puzzled was an understatement.

“I’m going to start wearing a hat from now on,” he complained to Kawanishi one time, and his friend had looked at him curiously.

“Why?”

“Yamagata-senpai won’t stop ruffling my hair and I’m tired of it getting messed up.”

“As if the normal state of your hair is anything but messy.”

“Shh, that’s supposed to be a secret.”

“Please, the entire hallway knows you straighten your hair.”

“Shush. Nobody else needs to know.”

“Why are you so bothered about him ruffling your hair? I mean, _really_.”

“I don’t know. It’s weird?”

“Then just tell him to stop. He’s nice, he’ll understand.”

“You know it’s only me he does it to?”

“He can’t reach me or Goshiki, of course you’re the only one he can do it to. Be a bit more understanding.”

Shirabu snorted and threw a pillow at him. “I’ll tell him you said that.”

“Go ahead. He won’t believe you.”

Shirabu wasn’t really going to tell Yamagata what Kawanishi said, but he did try to ask him to stop.

He just didn’t expect the response to be what it was.

“Yamagata-senpai, why do you keep ruffling my hair?”

It was one of the quieter afternoons after practice, when most of the team had left to their dorms to shower, and they were straggling behind.

Yamagata looked at him oddly. “It’s a form of affection, I guess? My siblings don’t mind it– Oh wait, do you mind it?”

“Um–”

“Oh man, I’m sorry, I guess it’s not a normal thing for your family, huh? I can stop if you’re uncomfortable with it, I didn’t know–”

 “Ah, no, it’s– It’s alright, I guess?”

“Oh, good, you’re not offended.” Yamagata looked relieved. “But geez, I’m sorry, that was thoughtless of me. It’s not like any of the other kouhai are my height so I can’t do it to them without looking like an idiot, but yeah, I’m sorry–”

“Yamagata-senpai, it’s fine. You’re rambling.”

“Oh.” Yamagata clammed up, and Shirabu got a moment to think about how Kawanishi was going to laugh his ass off when he found out that Yamagata admitted to never ruffling his hair because he was too short.

“Are you sure you don’t mind?”

“Yeah,” Shirabu answered thoughtlessly.

“That’s nice to know, because your hair is really soft.”

“Thanks– _What?”_

“What sort of conditioner do you use?” Yamagata reached over, but instead of messing his hair up as usual, his fingers slid through the strands, tugging gently. “I mean, _wow_ , I could never get my hair to cooperate this well.”

“I– Um–” Shirabu couldn’t think, he was too startled, too focused on the way Yamagata’s fingers threaded through his hair. It was oddly relaxing, but the uninhibited admiration on his senior’s face was enough to make him flustered. He knew it wasn’t a look directed at him, but it was too sudden, and he couldn’t think, his brain had short-circuited.

“Ooh hey, I think some of the others left the showers already, we can go in now. Lend me some of your conditioner then, won’t you?”

“Uh. Yes, of course.”

It took him a moment to notice Yamagata staring at him, before his senior shook his head and smiled.

“I didn’t think you were actually going to use the locker room showers, but I’m glad you agreed. I’m serious about the conditioner.”

It took a few more seconds for that to sink in.

(He never used the locker room showers. He never let anyone besides Kawanishi witness the mess his hair could become.)

(He’d just doomed himself, but he could deal with that later.)

“Oh. I–  I don’t have my toiletries with me, so we’d have to go back to the dorms if you actually want my conditioner.”

“That’s fine by me. Have you got all your stuff?”

“Yes, I think so…?”

“Good, let’s go.”

He got pushed out so quickly he didn’t have time to think.

(Not that he could. His brain was still in a foggy state, replaying the sensation of fingers threading through hair, gently, gently, tenderly.)

\-----

Kawanishi glanced up at the moaning pile of blankets across the room and rolled his eyes. “Okay, when are you going to stop the pity party and tell me what happened?”

_“Taichi I’m going to die.”_

“Now you’re just being melodramatic.”

Shirabu sat up in a hurry, tossing his unruly hair out of his face. “He said my hair was _soft_ ,” he whined. “I’m going to _die_ , I’ve never been so embarrassed in my life.”

If Kawanishi could roll his eyes harder, they would have fallen out of his head. “Did he notice you were embarrassed?”

“I don’t know, I was _trying not to die!”_

“You are such a drama queen.”

“Shut up.” Shirabu flopped back on the pillows. “It was so nice, okay, I think my soul left my body.”

“Drama queen.”

“Please die.”

“Ooh, a ‘please’, this is new.”

“Die.”

“Never. It’s my job to torment you.”

“I’ve enough torment in my life,” Shirabu mumbled to his pillow.

(But despite his complaints, he didn’t mind. Didn’t mind the flush creeping down his face and neck, the light-headedness that hadn’t dissipated since that first instance in the locker room. Didn’t mind _too much_ that someone other than his roommate saw him with the messiest blow-dried hair, loose waves sticking up everywhere, because, because–)

(Large, sturdy hands threaded through the strands, slowly, gently. Finger-combed through each portion from root to tip, with quiet mumbles of admiration.)

_(“Your hair is really soft, isn’t it?”)_

(He couldn’t stop replaying it, couldn’t stop recalling the immense comfort and warmth he felt.)

(He wanted to lean back, to immerse himself in that feeling forever.)

_(“Thanks, I guess.”)_

**Author's Note:**

> Sue me, I wanted blushy Shirabu okay


End file.
